From Sunnydale, With Love
by Randy S
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.
1. Prologue

Title: From Sunnydale, With Love (Prologue)  
  
Author: Randall Stone  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.  
  
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new   
incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.  
  
Notes:  
Spoilers: S1-3  
  
This follows _The Hellmouth is Not Enough_, so you should read   
that story first.   
  
Category: B/X  
Rating: PG-14- nothing worse than what's on the show.  
Feedback: Yes please.  
  
*****  
  
Giles looked up from his demonological history book when he heard   
his door open. Any concern he might have felt at this uninvited   
intrusion into his house dissipated when he saw the cheerful   
readheaded form of Willow Rosenberg entering his study.  
  
"Hello Willow. What brings you here today? Shouldn't you be at   
school right now?"  
  
"Yeah, but this is more important. Remember a few months ago, when   
you wanted me to look into Riley Finn's company?" Giles nodded, and   
Willow began to set up her laptop as she continued. "All we could   
track down were some numbered bank accounts that provided most of   
his funding."  
  
"Right, the Swiss accounts."  
  
"Actually, I think they were based out of Lichtenstein. The Swiss   
are starting to cave to the US on the anonymity thing because of the   
drug war. Anyways, the point is that there are no names associated   
electronically with the numbered accounts, so we were stuck.  
  
"Until today. We had a lecture on information hiding in computer   
science, and the teacher talked about how sometimes, even though a   
message is sent with perfect encryption, the simple fact that the   
message is sent betrays some information.  
  
"So I went combing through all the transactions that I could find   
involving the numbered accounts that we discovered. The details are   
all outlined here on the computer, but basically everything points   
to one person."  
  
"Did you recognize the name?"  
  
Willow's expression, which had been growing gradually more excited   
as she explained her technological wizardry, fell.  
  
"That's the bad news. It's nobody that I know of, but at least we   
have a name. Now we just need to figure out who Ernst Stavro   
Blofeld is."  
  
Willow heard a clatter and looked up from her computer. Giles had   
been polishing his glasses as he listened to her explanation, and   
had dropped them onto his desk when he heard her revelation.  
  
"Giles? Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost?"  
  
---  
  
"Report, Number Four."  
  
Maggie Walsh straightened up instinctively when she heard the   
commanding tone issue from behind Number One's desk.  
  
"The details of what transpired are in my written report. Number   
Five added a healthy dose of treachery to his vast supply of   
arrogance, as expected. He also proved incompetant, which was less   
forgivable."  
  
"And what of this Xander Harris?"  
  
"Harris?" Walsh snorted. "A simple policeman who happened to be in   
the right place at the right time. He should prove no impediment to   
our plans."  
  
"I was expecting you to have a plan, Number Four."  
  
"And I do. We should recoup the costs of the Sunnydale debacle, and   
significantly weaken our enemies. And Mr. Harris will act as our   
unwitting accomplice."  
  
"Excellent. Your plan is foolproof?"  
  
"Absolutely. I have anticipated every possible move and counter   
move." Walsh smiled. "Mr. Harris is a young man, with all of the   
weaknesses that that entails."  
  
* * *   
  
Here we go...  
  
--Randy 


	2. Chapter 1

Title: From Sunnydale, With Love (Chapter One)  
  
Author: Randall Stone  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.  
  
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new   
incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.  
  
Notes:  
Spoilers: S1-3  
  
This follows _The Hellmouth is Not Enough_, so you should read   
that story first.   
  
Category: B/X  
Rating: PG-ish- nothing worse than what's on the show.  
Feedback: Yes please.  
  
*****  
  
The two fighters circled each other, probing for an opening. After   
numerous feints, there was a flurry of activity as the two engaged   
each other at close range. The fight was over quickly, as the loser   
conceded the battle and swam off to greener pastures.  
  
The two men in the room turned their attention from the fish tank   
to each other. Both men carried themselves quietly, but in a manner   
that spoke of power hidden beneath the surface. It was the man   
behind the desk who spoke first.  
  
"Siamese Fighting Fish. Fascinating creatures. Brave, but on the   
whole, stupid. Yes, they're stupid... except for the occasional one   
such as we have here, who waits. Waits until the survivor is so   
exhausted that he cannot defend himself. And then, like SPECTRE, he   
strikes."  
  
"The parallel is amusing."  
  
"We did not arrange for you to come over from Wolfram and Hart just   
for amusement, Number Three."  
  
Holland Manners nodded once in acknowledgment. He had only left   
Wolfram and Hart after long contemplation of his alternatives. Not   
that he believed in any silly notions like company loyalty- Holland   
knew that the only thing that matters in this world is power. And   
should Wolfram and Hart's plans come to fruition, he knew that the   
only power that he would wield would be as some demon's lackey.  
  
And Holland didn't plan on being anybody's lackey. He would rather   
be a big fish in a smaller pond. It was this simple calculation   
that had led him to switch his loyalties. Of course, Wolfram and   
Hart was not yet aware of his change of heart.  
  
"You have considered the plan?"  
  
The question brought Holland's mind back to the present.  
  
"I have. It's complex, but I can pull it off. I have somebody   
working for me who is tailor made for the role- he's ambitious, but   
naive."  
  
"A useful combination."  
  
"Indeed. I was hoping you would provide somebody to be the heavy."  
  
"Of course. Here are files on some people who have proven useful   
in the past."  
  
The man behind the desk passed a stack of manila folders across to   
Holland. He picked them up and skimmed through them, before one   
file in particular caught his eye. He pulled the folder from the   
pile and spread it out on the table.  
  
"Here. He would be perfect."  
  
"A fine choice."  
  
"Can we really get him for this job?"  
  
"I wouldn't waste your time if we could not."  
  
---  
  
Spike dug into his Chow Main as he flipped the television over to   
the Passions marathon. The food didn't sustain his body, but he   
enjoyed the texture. Chinese food always brought back memories of   
a happier time for him. A time before Dru- the ringing of the   
hotel phone interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Bloody- nobody has this number. Must be the front desk again.   
What could they be calling about?"   
  
Spike was still mumbling to himself when he answered the phone.  
  
"'ello?"  
  
"Hello, William."  
  
"Number one." An involuntary shudder ran through Spike's body.  
  
"I have a job for you."  
  
"No way. I'm through with you lot. I told you that."  
  
"I was afraid you would say that. Do I have to remind you how you   
failed to complete your last job?"  
  
"That's because it was James bloody Bond. Nobody ever managed to   
kill him. Did they?" Not receiving a response, Spike continued.   
"Anyways, I don't see how that-"  
  
"You know how our organization feels about failure, William. I've   
been lenient with you due to the extenuating circumstances of the   
time, but the fact remains that you owe us a debt. I'm offering you   
a chance to repay that debt."   
  
Left unspoken was the other, less pleasant method that SPECTRE used   
to collect on debts.  
  
"Fine." Spike sighed. "I could use a spot of violence anyways."  
  
"I'm glad you've decided to be reasonable."  
  
Spike listened as he was given the details of his assignment. He   
hung up the phone with a smile.  
  
"If he'd just told me what the job was, he wouldn't have needed that   
whole song and dance routine. This will be fun."  
  
Spike hummed happily to himself as he walked over to the figure   
lying bound and gagged in the corner of his bedroom.  
  
"Now, the good news is that I'm not going to have you for breakfast   
tomorrow, because I'm leaving town tonight. The bad news... well, I   
think you can figure that out on your own."  
  
---  
  
TWO WEEKS LATER  
  
"Sir, you wanted to see me right away?"  
  
Xander stood in M's office. He was dressed in his usual suit and   
tie. Only his slightly tousled hair and the bags under his eyes gave   
any indication of the lateness of the hour.  
  
"Yes, 007, this came to us through our special channels. I'm afraid   
that the Slayer, Buffy Summers, has been the target of a hostile   
spell and is deathly ill."  
  
"What?! Who did this? I'll-"  
  
"Compose yourself, 007! We all know how important the Slayer's well   
being is to the safety of us all. If you can't conduct yourself with   
the necessary restraint- and professionalism- I will send 008 in your   
place."  
  
Xander took a moment to take a few deep breaths and visibly calm   
himself.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."  
  
"See that it doesn't. Now, as I was saying, Buffy is in some sort   
of a coma. Judging from some of the things that she is saying and   
from this symbol which has appeared on her arm-" M laid a photograph   
of a glyph on Buffy's arm on his desk. "We believe she has been the   
target of a spell from the Scroll of Aberjian."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"It's a scroll containing ancient prophecies and rituals that was   
thought to be lost. The spell essentially forces the victim to see   
and to some extent experience everything evil that transpires around   
the world. A normal human would only survive for a day or so. We   
think the Slayer will last a week, maybe two. Fortunately, the same   
scroll that contains the curse also contains the cure."  
  
"Who has the scroll?"  
  
"It was thought to be lost for centuries. We now have reason to   
believe that the scroll is the possession of Wolfram and Hart, a   
Los Angeles law firm."  
  
"An American company? Are the police going to confiscate the scroll   
from them?"  
  
"Believe it or not 007, the LAPD is not eager to tangle with a   
powerful law firm to retrieve an item of merely occult value." M   
sighed. "The American authorities will look the other way on this   
one, but will not provide active help."  
  
"So I'll be going it alone, then?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
---  
  
"Tell me again why you guys aren't out there kicking some lawyers'   
asses?" Cordelia was clearly upset.  
  
"Cordelia, you know how I feel about Buffy. I'd be out there doing   
everything that I could to save her life, but the Powers That Be say   
that it's not my fight." Angel winced as he sat down behind his   
desk. "They were very persuasive."  
  
"Not to mention that Wolfram and Hart has vampire protection up to   
here." Doyle commented as he sank down onto the couch in Angel's   
office, rubbing his temples. "And the Powers are stepping up the   
visions to keep us busy."  
  
"So we're just going to sit here and not do anything while Buffy's   
dying in Sunnydale? That seems kind of lame."  
  
"'Delia, there's nothing we can do." Doyle explained. "We just   
have to wait for the champion that they've chosen for this task."  
  
"What, is he going to walk right through that door?"  
  
The silence after Cordelia's question was broken by the jingling of   
the bell as the door to the office opened. Cordelia automatically   
started to recite the agency motto.  
  
"Angel Investigations, we help the- Xander?"  
  
"Cordy."  
  
Xander stood in the doorway to the office. Xander looked a lot   
different from how Cordelia remembered him. He was wearing a grey   
suit and carrying a black attache case, and carried himself in a   
manner that spoke of quiet confidence. The only visible evidence of   
his recent eight hour flight were the bags under his eyes. Right   
now his eyes were searching the room, stopping when they came to   
rest on a familiar face.  
  
"Angel. What can you tell me about Wolfram and Hart?"  
  
Angel and Cordelia looked at each other. Cordelia was the first to   
turn back to Xander and speak.  
  
"Xander, are *you* a warrior for the Powers That Be?"  
  
Xander responded by pulling out his intelligence credentials and   
tossing them onto the desk in front of her.  
  
"In a manner of speaking."  
  
*****  
  
The plot thickens.  
  
--Randy 


	3. Chapter 2

Title: From Sunnydale, With Love (Chapter One)  
  
Author: Randall Stone  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.  
  
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new   
incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.  
  
Notes:  
Spoilers: S1-3  
  
This follows _The Hellmouth is Not Enough_, so you should read   
that story first.   
  
Accent note: Assume that Xander speaks with a British accent that   
tends to go in and out depending on who he's speaking   
to and the subject matter. It's not super important,   
and I didn't want to bog down a lot of the story   
detailing it.  
  
Category: B/X  
Rating: PG-ish- nothing worse than what's on the show.  
Feedback: Yes please.  
  
*****  
  
"What is all this?" Cordelia asked, sorting through the pile of   
papers Xander had given her. "You're a spy! For England! Why   
does England care about Buffy?"  
  
"Believe it or not Cordy, but if the world gets sucked into the   
Hellmouth it's not just America that will be affected."  
  
"Well, yeah, but what are you doing-" Cordelia looked down- "with a   
license to kill?"  
  
"It's kind of a long story. I don't think we really have time for   
it right now."  
  
"Fine. But I'm getting it out of you eventually."  
  
"OK. Now can we talk about Wolfram and Hart?"  
  
"Oh, them. They're pure evil."  
  
Xander blinked. "That sounds a little harsh. I mean, I know you   
don't like lawyers, but-"  
  
"She's right." Angel interrupted. "They're not just any law firm."   
  
"I take it you've had some trouble with them before?"  
  
"Some?" Angel laughed. "They've caused most of the trouble I've   
had since I moved to LA. Half the demons in the city are either on   
their payroll or on their client list."  
  
"Serious people, then?"  
  
"Deadly. You remember Wesley Wyndham-Price?"  
  
"I think Willow mentioned him in one of her letters." Xander   
searched his memory. "A watcher, right?"  
  
"Ex-watcher. He screwed up pretty badly down in Sunnydale last year.   
But he'd turned over a new leaf, and he was working with us.   
Translations, research, that sort of thing. About a week ago-" Angel   
unconsciously clenched his fist. "He was found dead in an alley.   
Vampire attack. The vamp who did it used to work for Wolfram and   
Hart."  
  
"Used to? You got ahold of him then?"  
  
"Yeah." Angel gave him a predatory grin. "Vampires are going to   
think twice before killing one of my employees again."  
  
"Well, good." Xander cleared his throat. That smile had been   
uncomfortably close to the Angelus that he remembered from two years   
before. Putting his fears out of his mind, Xander continued.  
  
"You guys know about this magic scroll, right?"  
  
"The Scroll of Aberjian." Doyle spoke up from the couch. "I saw   
it."  
  
"You saw it?"  
  
"Oh yeah, you guys don't know each other." Cordelia interjected.   
"Xander, this is Doyle. He has a drinking and gambling problem, and   
he inherited your old dress sense. He also gets visions from the   
Powers That Be."  
  
"Visions?"  
  
"Damsels in distress, evil demons, things like that." Cordelia   
explained. "Doyle, this is Xander. He's... Xander."  
  
"Right." Doyle looked a little bemused. "So, anyways, they sent   
me a vision yesterday about the Scroll. It's is in one of Wolfram   
and Hart's vaults under their office building. Along with the rest   
of their security, this vault in particular is guarded by a   
Prego-something demon."  
  
"Preggothian." Angel corrected.  
  
"A what?" Xander asked.  
  
Angel walked over to the desk and fished a piece of paper out of   
the clutter. He showed it to Xander. The drawing on the paper   
showed a demon that was mostly fangs and muscle.  
  
"I see. This is going to take some planning, isn't it?" Xander   
seemed to deflate after he spoke as his fatigue suddenly became   
visible on his face.  
  
There was a short pause after Xander's words. Cordelia broke the   
silence.  
  
"Hey, if you're with the government now, can't we call the FBI down   
on them and go in with some overwhelming force?"  
  
"For what? Hostile spellcasting?" Xander shook his head. "The   
American agencies are just starting to figure out vampires- none of   
them have really come around on the whole occult thing. MI-6 is only   
so enlightened because of some nasty business back in the seventies.   
The FBI knows enough about Wolfram and Hart that they'll turn a blind   
eye to whatever we do, but they're not about to help us out."  
  
"So we're it then?"  
  
"Afraid so." Xander yawned. "Look, I've had a really long day, and   
we're not going to be able to do anything tonight, so I'm going to   
go back to my hotel room and crash."  
  
"OK, but I want to see you first thing in the morning tomorrow. We   
have a lot of catching up to do."  
  
Xander smiled at her. "Sure."  
  
With that, Xander turned and left Angel Investigations. Cordelia   
took advantage of the opportunity for some quality gawking.  
  
"Well, that was something." Doyle remarked.  
  
"He's changed a lot." Angel observed.  
  
"Yeah," Cordelia murmured, then shook herself out of her reverie   
before speaking again.  
  
"Angel, why don't you have a license to kill?"  
  
---  
  
Xander was staying in a Holiday Inn whose chief virtue was of being   
close to the Angel Investigations office. Still, he thought to   
himself as he shouldered the duffel bag that he had left in Angel's   
waiting room, "close" in LA still meant a good fifteen minute walk.  
  
Xander decided to go ahead and walk back, rather than wait for a   
taxi. He figured that the night air would help clear his head,   
which was a whirling mass of confusion after all that had transpired   
in the last day.  
  
When he was about a block from the hotel, Xander thought he heard a   
noise from behind him. He spun around and looked up and down the   
street. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he chalked it up to   
paranoia and continued on to his hotel.  
  
His last thought as his head hit the pillow before sleep claimed him   
was of Buffy.  
  
---  
  
Back in an alley a block from Xander's hotel, a Kralich demon was   
flopping around in a pool of its own blood. Its mouth was moving,   
but no sound was coming out. This was due to the same gaping neck   
wound that was the source of the blood on the street.  
  
Spike stood a few feet back from the demon, watching it.  
  
"Tricky bugger, aren't you? Trying to sneak up on the human and   
pick up a late night snack, eh?" Spike lit his cigarette and took a   
puff. "Never thought anybody would be sneaking up on you."  
  
Spike sighed. "Hell, you were easier to kill than that English   
wanker last week. Didn't anybody ever tell you it's dangerous to be   
out on the streets at night?"  
  
The demon was of course unable to respond, though it seemed to be   
trying to say something. Spike watched dispassionately as its   
struggles gradually weakened and stopped. When the demon finally   
died, its body dissolved into a yellow goo.   
  
"There, now that Droopy's home safe, time to go check up on the   
Poof."  
  
With that, Spike threw the fag end of his cigarette into the demon's   
earthly remains and strode out of the alley back towards Angel's   
office.  
  
* * *   
  
This chapter's a little light because I write from stopping point to   
stopping point, rather than trying to match up in size. The next   
one should be pretty hefty, so I hope that makes it up to y'all.  
  
--Randy 


	4. Chapter 3

Title: From Sunnydale, With Love (Chapter One)  
  
Author: Randall Stone  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are belong to someone else.  
  
Summary: Meet Xander Harris. His new incredible enemies. His new   
incredible adventures. The same incredible woman.  
  
Notes:  
Spoilers: S1-3  
  
This follows _The Hellmouth is Not Enough_, so you should read   
that story first.   
  
Category: B/X  
Rating: PG-ish- nothing worse than what's on the show.  
Feedback: Yes please.  
  
*****  
  
The girl flinched back at the sight of the demon in front of her.  
  
"Wh- what are you?"  
  
The vampire's face twisted into a hideous parody of a human smile.  
  
"Your worst nightmare."  
  
The pair were distracted from each other by the sound of clapping   
from the shadows.  
  
"Good, good. The line was a little cliched, but the delivery was   
top notch." Angel's tone was appraising. "I mean, I've heard   
better- hell, I've done better- but that was very scary."  
  
Spike watched from above as the vampire launched himself at Angel.   
The fight was soon over, and Spike couldn't help but speak mockingly   
as he watched Angel comfort the girl below.  
  
"How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad hunk of a night   
thing?" He said in a high pitched voice.  
  
"No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me.   
You see, I was once a badass vampire, but love and a pesky curse   
defanged me. Now I'm just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth."   
Spike lowered his voice to mimic Angel's.  
  
The girl stepped closer to Angel. Angel stepped back, warding her   
off with his hand.  
  
"No, not the hair! Never the hair!"   
  
"But there must be some way I can show my appreciation."  
  
"No, helping those in need's my job- and working up a load of   
sexual tension and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly   
thanks enough!"  
  
"I understand. I have a nephew who's gay, so..."  
  
"Say no more. Evil's still afoot! And I'm almost out of that   
Nancy-boy hair-gel that I like so much. Quickly, to the   
Angel-mobile, away!"  
  
Spike lit a cigarette while he watched Angel lead the girl away.  
  
"What happened to you, Peaches?" He sighed. "I wish I had the time   
to try to beat some sense out of you, but it'll have to wait. Maybe   
after your precious slayer dies you'll see things my way."  
  
---  
  
"One more innocent life saved." Angel said to Doyle as he entered   
the office.  
  
The Irishman downed a couple of asprin tablets and chased them with   
a shot of scotch before replying.  
  
"I'm so glad my splitting headache wasn't in vain."  
  
Angel smiled in reply and sat across from Doyle. The two sat in   
silence for a while. After a few minutes of this Angel began to   
feel a little uncomfortable. He was used to long stretches of   
quiet solitude, but sitting still and watching his usually   
gregarious friend silently nurse his drink was a little unnerving.  
  
"Isn't this about the time when you try to drag me out to a sports   
bar?"  
  
"Huh?" Doyle looked up, startled. "Nah, I'm going to stay in   
tonight and get quietly sloshed."  
  
"What's eating you?" Doyle started to speak, but Angel interrupted.  
"The Sluggorth demon was last week- and he only nibbled."  
  
The comment brought a slight smile to Doyle's face.  
  
"I don't know. I mean, it's great that we have somebody here to   
help and all, but the last thing I needed was another pretty face   
for 'Delia to swoon over."  
  
"Xander?" Angel shook his head. "Not much chance of him stealing   
Cordy away- he and Buffy are pretty tight."  
  
"Your Buffy?"  
  
Angel nodded.  
  
"That's rough, man. I mean, you thought she was the love of your   
life, and she's already dating some other guy. Some other guy that   
you have to work with..." Doyle trailed off.   
  
"Yeah." Angel paused. "Why don't you pour me some of that?"  
  
Doyle pulled down one of the other glasses and splashed in a   
generous amount of the scotch. Wordlessly, he slid the drink across   
the desk to Angel.  
  
Angel took the glass and slugged back the scotch in one swallow. As   
a vampire he could hardly taste the stuff, but he still grunted as   
he felt the alchohol burn its way down his throat.  
  
Angel held out his glass for Doyle to refill. This time Angel   
sipped his drink as the two men fell back into a comfortable   
silence. Suddenly, a question occured to Angel.  
  
"Doyle? Why are you so sure Cordy wants a rich, handsome man?"  
  
"I've met her."  
  
"I think you may have misjudged her. Hell, she dated Xander back in   
high school."  
  
"Let me guess: head cheerleader and quarterback of the football   
team, right?"  
  
Angel laughed.  
  
"I forgot, you just met Xander. I think I have some old pictures of   
the gang around somewhere." Angel finished off his drink. "A girl   
of many layers, our Cordelia."  
  
---  
  
"So then I thought this blouse would go better with this jacket, but   
the other blouse matches these shoes a lot better, so I went with   
this ensemble. What do you think, Xander?"  
  
Xander was in a bit of a daze. Somehow going out for coffee with   
Cordelia to catch up on old times had turned into a full fledged   
shopping trip. Right now they were in the largest clothing store   
that Xander had ever set foot in- or at least the largest that he   
had ever explored in such detail.  
  
"I think it's almost lunch time. Would you please decide what   
you're going to buy so we can go eat?"  
  
"Buy? Please." Cordelia sniffed. "This is a strictly a scouting   
trip. As if I'd want to buy any of this."  
  
Xander caught a brief glimpse of Cordelia's vulnerability before she   
was able to put up her haughty facade. He remembered hearing about   
her father's troubles with the IRS.  
  
"Tell you what, Cordy. Since we're working together now, I'll pick   
up the tab this time. Call it a gesture of international goodwill."  
  
Some time later Xander followed Cordelia out of the store,   
staggering under the physical burden of her purchases and the mental   
burden of trying to figure out how he was going to justify this one   
to M. They'd probably wind up taking it out of his paycheck. He   
sighed. There went his bonus for saving the world last month.  
  
At least Cordy seemed happy. Xander came out of his reverie when he   
thought he heard her say something important.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"I said that I wondered what ever happened to Harmony- I haven't   
seen her since graduation."  
  
"No, before that."  
  
"Oh, that's Wolfram and Hart's building over there." Cordelia   
pointed.  
  
"Hold these for me, will you? I'll only be a minute." Xander   
handed the packages off to Cordelia and made his way to the Wolfram   
and Hart building.  
  
Entering through the double glass doors, Xander was confronted with   
an imposing monument to corporate success. The enormous lobby, with   
its high ceiling and corporate artwork, was clearly intended to   
impress visitors. Constant streams of Wolfram and Hart employees   
were moving to and fro across the marble floor, each employee   
showing purpose in their stride.  
  
Xander made his way through the crowd to the large circular   
receptionists' area in the middle of the room. The girl behind the   
counter looked up at his approach.   
  
"Can I help you, Mr..."  
  
"Harris, Xander Harris. And yes, I believe you can. I'm in town on   
business, and I need to retain someone for legal purposes while I'm   
here."  
  
"Well, it's not our specialty, but I can refer you to several firms   
that do good work in corporate law."  
  
"Forgive me, I did not make myself clear." Xander held the girl's   
gaze. "I have certain... special needs. My sources assure me that   
your firm is best qualified to aid me in those areas."  
  
"I see." The girl's demeanor shifted. "I'm afraid everyone in our   
Special Projects division is currently occupied. I could have them   
call you to make an appointment."  
  
"Good."  
  
Xander gave her the number for the hotel where he was staying, and   
made his way back outside to where Cordelia was waiting.  
  
"What was that all about?"  
  
"I just wanted to talk to them about employing their services."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"Relax. I figure I'll at least get a look around inside while they   
give me their sales pitch."  
  
"Oh."   
  
Cordelia acknowledged the merits of this idea with a nod before they   
both turned and began to make their way back to Angel   
Investigations. Neither one of them noticed the figure that slipped   
out of the doors of Wolfram and Hart's building and began to   
carefully shadow their path.  
  
---  
  
"There you are, 007."   
  
A distinctive voice greeted Xander as he and Cordelia entered the   
office of Angel Investigations.  
  
"Q! I didn't know you ever left the lab."  
  
"You're not the only one that gets to have some fun in the sun once   
in a while."  
  
"I see." Xander took a moment to take in Q's Hawaiian shirt and   
board short outfit.  
  
"Well, don't just stand there. Come help me unpack."  
  
Xander followed Q out to his car, which was packed to the roof with   
trunks and suitcases. Xander grabbed one of the suitcases, and was   
reaching for a long round container when Q stopped him.  
  
"I don't think you'll be needing that, 007. Unless you think you'll   
be shooting down any small aircraft?"  
  
Xander shook his head, bemused, and grabbed another case. The two   
men made their way back to the office, and took the gear downstairs   
to Angel's training area. As soon as everything had been unloaded,   
Q went into his lecture mode.  
  
"First things first. You have your briefcase with you?"  
  
Xander handed it over.  
  
"New standard equipment. As you know, if the suitcase is not opened   
in the proper manner-" Q rotated the latches ninety degrees before   
popping the case open- "This cartridge, here, explodes, deploying   
the tear gas stored inside."  
  
"Now, this new cartridge-" Q pulled it out of his pocket- "Still   
looks like an ordinary stick of deodorant. But now, the tear gas   
inside the cartridge has had the water component replaced by holy   
water for increased effectiveness against the undead."  
  
"Clever." Xander was impressed.  
  
"Very. Also, the throwing knife-" Q pressed the hidden button on   
the side of the case, causing the spring loaded compartment to pop   
the knife out from the side of the case. "Has been replaced by a   
new model."  
  
Q pulled a knife out of his pocket and handed it over to Xander.   
Taking a closer look at it, Xander could see that the knife was the   
same size and shape as the one it was replacing, but the new knife   
had a line of crosses running down the center of the blade.  
  
"Nice decoration."  
  
"More than just decoration, 007. As you know, a mere image of a   
cross would have no effect on vampires. Each cross you see in the   
blade is actually an individual wooden cross embedded in the metal.   
It took us years to come up with an alloy strong enough to still be   
an acceptable knife with the cross inlay."  
  
"Good to see you're always innovating." Xander commented as he   
removed the old knife and slid the new one into the briefcase. "But   
do you have anything that will be a bit more help for this specific   
mission."  
  
"I thought you'd never ask." Q opened one of the trunks behind him   
and withdrew a computer disk. "Here."  
  
Xander took the disk from his hand and examined it closely, rotating   
the disk to attempt to divine any hidden secrets.  
  
"What is it, some kind of explosive?" Xander started pulling at the   
metal tab on the bottom of the disk, trying to get a look inside.  
  
"Don't touch that!" Q grabbed the disk out of his hand. "This disk   
contains a very sophisticated computer program. The company that   
supplies Wolfram and Hart's security systems is a... friend to the   
crown. If you can get this disk into any computer on the same   
network as the security system, it will insert you as an employee of   
Wolfram and Hart with full access to their vault. Here."  
  
Q handed over a security pass with Xander's picture on it. "David   
Somerset, research intern."  
  
"Nice."  
  
"I thought so. Also, the program will disable their alarm systems   
for about an hour, so you should be able to replace the scroll with   
this." Q pulled out a metal cylinder. "This is the same size and   
weight as the container holding the scroll, and should delay any   
reaction from Wolfram and Hart."  
  
"Of course," Q continued, "things might not go as smoothly as we   
hope. Here's your contingency plan."  
  
Q handed Xander an Altoids tin.  
  
"What, charm them with my minty fresh breath?"  
  
"Hardly. Look inside."  
  
Xander opened the tin. Inside were about twenty gel cap pills.  
  
"If you squeeze one of the pills until you hear a cracking sound,   
five seconds later it will dissolve into a knockout gas. Anybody in   
the room will be out cold in about ten seconds, and stay under for   
about an hour. Of course you'll also want these."  
  
Q handed Xander what looked like a pack of chewing gum.  
  
"The chemicals that we've added to the gum will neutralize the   
knockout gas as long as you're chewing on it."  
  
"Nifty." Xander gestured at the trunk. "This stuff is all pretty   
light. What else do you have in there?"  
  
"Oh, just some odds and ends."  
  
---  
  
"Interesting guy, your friend there." Doyle commented after Q had   
left. "We talked a bit while he was waiting for you."  
  
"Yeah, he definitely is unique." Xander agreed. "He's made this   
job look remotely possible. Still, it would be nice if we had   
somebody on the inside."  
  
"What, you mean a Wolfram and Hart employee?" Doyle snorted. "Not   
much chance of that. They're pretty much a 'check your soul at the   
door' kind of place."  
  
"They hate us. We hate them. It's never going to change." Angel   
added from behind his desk.  
  
Just then there was a knock at the door. Everybody in the office   
turned to look at the sharply dressed visitor, who the Angel   
Investigations team recognized as Lindsey McDonald.  
  
"I want out."  
  
---  
  
Paul Norman groaned as he swam back to consciousness. Or at least,   
he tried to groan. He soon realized that the reason that no sound   
was coming out of his mouth was that it was duct taped shut. Paul   
tried to remember how he got in this situation as he took stock of   
his surroundings.  
  
Wolfram and Hart checked out all prospective clients as a matter of   
course. He was one of many trackers that they employed. He had   
been following some guy named Xander Harris. The guy was pretty   
well dressed and looked like a legit client.  
  
Then he had followed him to... Angel Investigations! That was it.   
He had been about to report it in when everything went black. Then   
he woke up here, tied to a chair in what looked like some kind of   
garage.  
  
"Well, well, look who's awake."  
  
Paul's head snapped around to see the other man in the room with him.   
High cheekbones, leather jacket, English accent. Paul didn't know   
the guy, although something about the way he carried himself told   
Paul that he was in a bad situation. He decided to try to reason   
with his captor.  
  
"Mm mm mm."  
  
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Spike chuckled. "I kill   
me."  
  
"Look, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm going to torture you, then   
I'm going to kill you. It's something I enjoy. It... amuses me."   
Spike paused to light a cigarette.  
  
"Mmm mm!"  
  
"You might as well save your energy. I don't really care what you   
have to say. The only thing you can do is pray for a quick death-   
which you aren't going to get." Spike sighed and took a step back.  
  
"Right now, you're probably wondering what you did to deserve this.   
The simple fact is, you were about to expose Harris and ruin my   
whole day. I mean, I don't want to have dyed my hair back to its   
original color and bought all that tweed for nothing."  
  
Spike put out his cigarette on Paul's exposed arm.  
  
"Mmm!"  
  
"I know, it might look a little suspicious that you disappeared   
right after you went out to follow the boy- especially if it looks   
like he killed you. But, you know, LA is a dangerous town."  
  
Spike walked over to the work bench at the side of the room and   
picked up a hand saw. He grinned evilly as he hefted it in his   
hand and tested its edge with his thumb.  
  
"All those demons out there- a guy's liable to get dismembered if   
he's not careful."  
  
***  
  
Tada. Man, this one took a while.  
  
--Randy 


End file.
